


Postcard on the Edge

by Waldo



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Community: ncisdaily, Ficlet, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-04
Updated: 2010-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 17:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waldo/pseuds/Waldo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to what G says after Hetty makes them sit at desks, he has been known to get mail.  On rare occasions.  Which is what makes them so important to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Postcard on the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Written for NCISDaily's March 4th prompt - postcard.
> 
> Ties in loosely with "Thinking Inside the Box" and takes place some nebulous time after that story.

It had been sitting on the edge of his desk. G hadn't realized it had fallen until Kensi leaned down and picked it up for him.

But of course, Kensi being Kensi, she couldn't just hand it back without comment.

"I didn't know you and Sam tried being roommates." She flipped the postcard over, studying the picture.

"We didn't," G said tersely, snatching it back from her.

"Then why would he send you a postcard using his address?"

"Because he was in Afghanistan," G said, showing her the picture side, with a very touristy shot of an open-air market and the word "AFGHANISTAN" across the bottom in three different alphabets. "And I was watching his place for him."

Kensi propped herself on the edge of G's desk. "That was years ago. You still carry the postcard around?"

G held up the book he'd been reading while he waited for Sam and Nate to get back from dropping off the two witnesses to their now-closed case. "I was using it as a bookmark."

Kensi studied the card from where she was, but she was adept enough at reading G's body language to know that trying to grab it back from G right then would certainly end up with her pinned to the ground in any large number of uncomfortable and inescapable positions.

The card had multiple creases in it and the picture had several cracks where folds had been made over and over again. Judging by the one that went from top to bottom in the center, it had clearly spent some time folded in half. Judging by the clear tape of various widths that sealed up various small tears and concentric wrinkles in the corners, G hadn't always been storing it somewhere flat, like in a book.

"You told me you don't keep 'stuff'," she tried.

"Just needed a bookmark," G said, his voice deliberately light, not adding anything more to the conversation.

"Okay," Kensi agreed, but the sarcasm didn't go unnoticed by G. G strongly suspected she'd turn her investigator's eye to Sam when he got back. Try to figure out why G was still carrying around a battered, old postcard. From Sam.

That night, G retired the postcard to his Tea Box of Stuff. It would have been far to easy for him to have dropped it somewhere where he wouldn't have gotten it back. And for reasons that Kensi really didn't need poking into, that just wasn't an option.


End file.
